Echo
by dnachemlia
Summary: McGee is imprisoned for a terrible crime and coerced into participating in a secret government project. In the meantime, the team must deal with their loss. AU.
1. Chapter 1

I am well aware that I do _not_ need another WIP. Tell that to my muse. Damn her.

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**Echo**

Inspired by the NFA Behind Bars Challenge

Genre: Sci-Fi, Suspense, Angst  
Rating: T/FR 15

Characters: McGee, Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, Vance, Ducky, Abby, Fornell, Palmer, OCs

Summary: McGee is imprisoned for a terrible crime and coerced into participating in a secret government project. In the meantime, the team must deal with their loss. AU

Disclaimer: Don't own. Whatever.

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Chapter 1

Consciousness returned slowly and when it finally arrived, Tim McGee really wished it hadn't. He found himself sitting upright, with his wrists cuffed to the arms of a hard metal chair and his ankles shackled together. His head ached as if he had been hit with something quite hard and his neck was stiff and sore. When the significance of his situation hit him he gasped and frantically looked around, his mind racing. What happened? Where was he? Why had he been taken prisoner? The room that he was in offered no clues to help answer his questions. It looked like a normal interrogation room, minus the two-way mirror, and the only other objects in the room besides his chair were a table and another chair on the other side of the table, and a small TV with a video player next to door on his left. He was dressed in his normal work attire, but he had no recollection of putting on that particular outfit, or anything else he had been doing immediately before waking up in this room. He desperately tried to pull the memories out of his subconscious, but nothing worked. The past few hours were blank.

Tim tested the restraints and winced when the metal bit into the flesh of his wrists. He cleared his throat to call out to his captors, to ask what they wanted from him, but before he could the door opened and his attention was drawn to the man who strode into the room. The man's appearance startled Tim. He hadn't been expecting someone dressed in a suit and tie combination that screamed federal agent. When the man reached the table he slammed a folder onto the surface in front of Tim.

"Why'd you do it?" The agent snarled. "You killed a man in cold blood, not even a warning. _Why?"_

Tim felt the blood drain from his face as he registered what the man just said. "I…I _what?"_

The agent shot him a look of utter loathing. "Maybe this will jog your memory." He stomped over to the TV and pressed a button. When the image appeared, Tim sucked in a breath: he was looking at the bullpen of NCIS, obviously the view from one of the security cameras. The picture was a little grainy, but he could clearly see himself walk to his desk, open the drawer where he kept his gun and remove it. The image of himself turned towards the desk across from his and yelled something. Soon Gibbs entered the frame, visibly furious, and Tim watched in horror as he saw himself raise the gun and fire point blank at Gibbs' chest, sending the lead agent to the floor. Tim had one final glance of his boss lying on his back, wide eyed and quite obviously dead, before the man in the room with him hit the switch and the screen went black.

"No…" Tim barely managed to whisper his denial. "No, I couldn't…I never…"

"But you _did_. In front of multiple witnesses, including Agents DiNozzo and David. I'm surprised you don't remember what DiNozzo did to _you_ after that little incident." Tim suddenly became more aware of his aching head. "That's one of the reasons your director transferred this case over to the FBI. One agent killing another? It's an administrative nightmare." Tim still tried to voice his denial, only to be cut off. "Don't even try to say you don't remember. It's all here, documented. So why did you do it?" The agent leaned into Tim's personal space and he couldn't help but flinch at the hatred in the man's eyes. "What happened? He finally push you too hard? You got tired of being the low man on the totem pole and you realized you'd never measure up? You decided you'd never be part of the family, never be anything more than the resident geek?" He scoffed. "And now you're looking for a temporary insanity plea? Forget it. You killed one of NCIS' most respected agents. You're going to fry for this. It's an almost guaranteed death penalty sentence _when_ you're convicted, and no judge in his right mind is going to show you any mercy." The agent straightened and looked down at Tim with contempt. "Enjoy your stay in federal prison, short though that's going to be. You won't last a week." He turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Tim's mind was reeling, with the image of Gibbs' body lying of the floor of the bullpen burned into his memory. He could imagine the rage with which Tony and Ziva had likely reacted, but he still couldn't comprehend _why_ this had happened. He had absolutely _no_ memory of it and while he knew that sometimes memories were repressed in the wake of a traumatic event, the event itself made no sense. Had someone set him up? Had he been drugged? Or, like the agent suggested, had he just suddenly snapped? The idea that he could have become so violent terrified him and he started to shake uncontrollably. He never noticed a second person enter the room until a voice cut through the cacophony of his thoughts.

"Such a waste."

Startled, Tim looked up and saw a whip-thin, middle-aged woman standing near the door, studying him with what could almost be interpreted as pity in her expression.

"W-what?"

"All those brains, all that talent, wasted in one moment. A shame, really."

"I…I don't…I don't _know_ what happened!"

"So I gathered. Unfortunately the FBI and NCIS don't believe you. The evidence is certainly not in your favor. You're going to jail, and then…" She shook her head. "It's certainly not going to end well for you, no matter what. But there may be a way to…handle the problem differently, in a way that is much more beneficial to almost everyone."

"W-what do you mean?"

She stepped forward and bent down so she was looking directly into his eyes. "You murdered another agent. The rest of the agents will be out for your blood, and even of you do make it to court…well, your existence between now and then will certainly not be pleasant. Then there's the trial. Your parents will be exposed to the shame of having their son accused and convicted of homicide. Your mother? She's been in declining health for a long time. This will just kill her. Your father's career will be over, and even though you haven't been in close contact with him for years, he'll still be associated with you, _and_ your crime. And then there's your sister: she'll always have that hanging over her head, her relationship to you. It will haunt her long after you're gone."

Tim scrunched his eyes shut to try and control the nausea building within him. His family didn't deserve that, not matter what their past relationship had been. He couldn't make them go through this. He had to help them…somehow.

"I'll plead guilty. No trial. They won't be dragged through the mud."

"It's not quite that simple. There's still the crime itself, and the aftermath…but there is a way to sweep this under the rug, if you will. We can make most of it go away."

Tim shook his head vehemently. "No. I…I'll take whatever punishment I'm given, but…Gibbs deserves justice."

"And he'll get it, but without your usefulness being sacrificed in the process."

"What?"

She smiled. "We'll make you disappear, and your agency is already willing to help erase the black mark on their record. A cover story will be released to the public, and no one outside of your immediate associates will ever know. In return, you'll work for us, for the security of this country. You'll live out your sentence under our control. You'll have the chance to atone, at least in part, for what you've done. You'll be able to put your natural talents to work for the greater good: for the good of the country and its citizens."

"It won't work. My team…they'll never forget. They won't want this…"

"No, they won't, and they'll always hate you for what you've done, but they _can_ be made to see reason. Everyone has a price, if you will, and the actual cost to them will be much less than it would if we solved this the usual way." She leaned in closer. "Make no mistake: your life _is_ over, but that doesn't mean your value dies with it. You _can_ still do some good in this world, Timothy McGee, and you can get a second chance even though you don't deserve it." She stood up and looked down at him. "This is a one-time offer, take it or leave it. Do we have a deal?"

Tim's natural instincts were screaming at him that this was all wrong, but his mind was overwhelmed by the realization of how badly his whole world had come crashing down around him, and his senses were clouded by grief. Finally he was able to raise his head and meet the woman's gaze.

"OK. I'll do it. I'll do what you want."

"Good. We'll arrange transportation immediately." She turned to leave.

"Wait! Can you tell everyone…just…I'm _so_ sorry. Please."

"I doubt they'll accept your apology, but I'll tell them. Anything else?"

"No."

"Good." She disappeared through the door and Tim McGee was left alone in his own private Hell.

XXX

The woman stepped into the small observation room and turned to watch the image on the monitor. It showed a man, shoulders slumped in defeat, his body shaking with silent sobs.

She smiled.

"I see you haven't lost your touch."

She turned to face the other occupant of the room. He was leaning back in his chair, his tie loosened and his suit coat removed and draped over the back of his seat.

"I could say the same for you," she replied and he smirked.

"The drugs helped. He responded just like you said he would." The man chuckled and shook his head. "All that repressed guilt and pain? It was like taking candy from a baby."

"And now for the difficult part: We have a bit of a mess to clean up my friend."

"That we do. Getting this one past Gibbs and his team is going to be a challenge. You really think he's worth it?"

"Oh, absolutely." Her smile grew wider, more predatory as she turned to study the image on the screen again. "He's exactly what we've been looking for."

TBC…

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Yep, it's gonna be a weird one ;) I'd be curious to know what you think so far.


	2. Chapter 2

Of all the fics I have, for some odd reason my muse decided this was the one I should work on. I wasn't going to argue.

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Chapter 2

Tony leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face as he tried to bring his mind back into focus. He hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours, and even if he had been allowed to go home, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep anyway. The feeling of dread that had first hit him nearly forty-eight hours ago, when the team finally realized that one of their own was missing, was gaining ground again. His partner, his _friend_, had vanished and despite the best efforts of Gibbs, Ziva, Abby, and himself, they had been unable to find a single trace of McGee _anywhere._

He heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Gibbs standing the doorway. When Tony saw the look on his boss' face, his heart sank.

"Got a call from the sheriff in Charlottesville. They think they found McGee."

"They _think?_" Tony asked as his gut started to churn. Gibbs tone had indicated the news was not good.

"They want us to confirm. Come on."

"Damn it," Tony muttered as he followed Gibbs. When they reached the truck, Ziva was already waiting, along with Ducky and Jimmy, and their expressions told Tony that they, too, knew what this trip might mean. Silently, they all climbed into their respective vehicles and headed out. No one said a word during the entire two-hour drive, their minds on what they hoped they wouldn't find when they reached their destination.

Finally they pulled into an auto-wrecking yard, already occupied by two police cruisers. One of the officers directed them to the back of the lot where the sheriff was waiting. As he climbed out of the truck Tony glanced around, but saw no evidence of a body. The sheriff waved them over to a stack of crushed cars and as they approached, Tony finally saw what had brought them to the sight and struggled against the surge of bile that boiled up from his stomach. The topmost car in the stack was still recognizable as silver, and a pale, bloody hand protruded from the wreck where the window had been.

The sheriff gave them a curt nod as they reached the gruesome discovery. "Agent Gibbs, I take it?" he asked, and Gibbs nodded, his gaze fixed on the scene behind where the sheriff stood. The sheriff held up an evidence bag, which contained a familiar black wallet. "One of the employees found this on the ground just over there," he indicated a spot next to the stack of cars. "And when he figured out what it was he called us in. Then we found…" he took a deep breath and tilted his head towards the car. "That. We don't have one of those fancy scanners, so I figured…"

"We'll take care of it," Gibbs replied, and sent Tony a look which caused the agent's stomach to twist painfully. He reached into his bag for the scanner as he struggled to keep his game face on and then pulled on a pair of gloves before he approached the hand. He carefully raised the scanner and maneuvered it so he could place the thumb on the window, flinching slightly as he touched the hand itself. He pressed the button to initiate the scan and waited for the signal to tell him the process was complete. When the scanner beeped, he checked the results, and barely managed to clamp down on the rush of nausea as he confirmed their worst fears.

"It's him." He slowly lowered the scanner into his bag before setting the bag on the ground and walking away, desperately trying to keep the images of what might have been his friend's last moments at bay, and failing miserably. He moved out of sight and fought to control his emotions: anger, grief, and the sudden empty feeling that accompanied the loss of someone close to him.

Soon he heard the crunch of gravel underfoot and turned, surprised to find Ducky approaching. The older man's face was pinched with anguish, but he spoke to Tony in a controlled, yet soothing tone.

"Are you all right, Anthony?"

"No. Ducky, please…please tell me…" Tony knew his fear was going to sound awful when voiced but he couldn't help it. "Please tell me Tim was already dead when they did that too him."

"I'm afraid I can't give a definite answer, not yet. We can only hope…these bastards showed him some modicum of mercy."

Tony took a deep breath and forced his inner turmoil to recede as much as he could. "And when we find them…no mercy."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Guess we should get working on that." Tony squared his shoulders and headed back to the scene, receiving a pat on the shoulder from Ducky as the M.E. joined him. When they returned to the site, Gibbs was standing off to the side, an arm around Ziva's shoulder, and Jimmy was simply staring at the visible remains of their team member, looking greener than he had in years. Tony turned towards Gibbs, waiting for instructions, but before the lead agent could respond they all heard several vehicles approaching and turned to see two black sedans and a dark blue van. The sight of the first person to climb out of one of the vans caused Tony to clench his teeth in anger, but before he could say anything, Gibbs was already on his way to meet the interloper.

"What in the hell are you doing here, Fornell?" Gibbs growled, and the FBI agent held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Just following orders, Gibbs. This is our scene, now."

"Like hell it is! McGee is my agent, and—"

"—death of a federal agent is our jurisdiction. Look, I know you've handled these cases internally before, but…it's a new administration, Jethro. We're doing things by the book." He stepped closer to Gibbs and lowered his voice, but not low enough to prevent Tony from hearing him. "Do you really want your people to see this, _all_ of this?"

"We can handle it," Tony replied, and the slight tremor in his voice caused him to wince at his own weakness.

"I'm sure you can, but you don't need to. Look: let my people handle the forensics, you can do the background on McGee for a motive to all of this. Trust me, it's better this way."

"Yeah, right. Forget it, Fornell, we—" His declaration was interrupted by the ringing of Gibbs' cell phone, and while he answered Tony continued to glare at the FBI agent, daring him to say something further. After a few heated exchanges Gibbs snapped his phone shut and sent Fornell a look that could have killed if such things were possible.

"Boss?"

"Let's go, DiNozzo."

"But—"

"We better be kept in the loop, Tobias," Gibbs said as he ignored Tony's protests and focused on the FBI agent.

"When we know, you'll know. I expect that to work both ways."

Without another word, Gibbs turned and headed for the truck, soon followed by his stunned team. When they were out of sight of the FBI, Tony tried his argument again.

"Boss, you can't just—"

"We're not gonna win this one, Tony. We need to focus on who could have done this right now."

"But—"

Finally Gibbs turned to face his senior agent and the words died in Tony's throat when he caught a glimpse of the devastation Gibbs was experiencing before it was hidden away behind the man's usual mask.

"You know what has to be done with the evidence. Do you really want Abby to have to deal with that?"

Tony was silent for a brief moment and shook his head. "No, Boss, but we owe it to Tim to find out what happened to him."

Gibbs sighed. "I know we do, Tony, and we will. Now let's get out of here, we have work to do." Gibbs started towards the driver's side of the truck and Tony turned to see how the rest of his team would react. Ducky merely shook his head and motioned to Palmer to follow him back to the M.E.'s van. Ziva avoided his gaze, but the dampness around her eyes showed that she was feeling the grief that Tony himself was experiencing.

"You OK, Ziva?"

She shook her head and opened the passenger door of the truck before silently climbing inside. Tony followed suit and shut the door, sending one last glance towards the area of activity as they drove away, feeling for all the world like he had failed his friend.

_I'm so sorry, Probie…_

XXX

Olivia Freeman silently observed the most recent addition to the prison. Over the years, both during her tenure at her present place of employment and the preceding years as a state prison nurse, she had learned that it was always a good idea to get a view of the prisoners in her care without them knowing. When they had an audience, their true personalities, and therefore their threat levels, were carefully disguised. Alone, the masks were off and she was better able to determine how much of a danger they posed, and also what type of attitude she would have to adopt with them to ensure her own safety. At 6'3" and nearly two hundred pounds, Olivia herself was more often than not a deterrent to aggressive behavior, but one could never be completely safe from the more hateful prisoners.

Since coming to this facility three years ago, the threats she saw had been generally mild. The prisoners here were reported to be more of the technological sort of criminal who had agreed to participate in 'special projects' as part of their sentence. While she held no illusions as to their guilt (or proclaimed innocence), she still tried to determine the sort of trouble they would give her.

The man she was currently watching was a bit of a mystery. He had barely moved since she had arrived, and his expression and posture spoke of total dejection, although if pressed, she would not have said he was feeling sorry for himself. He appeared to be struggling under a crushing sense of loss…and definitely guilt. While she had observed a similar display of emotion in other prisoners over the years, experience had taught her that in many cases, it was truly an illusion. This man, on the other hand, showed none of the subtle tells that would indicate his displayed feelings were untrue. She saw no immediate threat of danger to herself, but she wondered if he was one of those that would eventually attempt to take the easy way out. She'd have to keep an eye on this one. Administrators _hated_ that kind of paperwork.

Finally she stepped out of the observation area and walked up to the cell door. The prisoner immediately looked up and when she opened the door he stood and turned to face her. Surprised that she might have misread him, and ready to notify the nearby guards if necessary, she paused and waited but he quickly cast his gaze to the floor and stood silently, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. With a barely repressed chuckle she realized he was merely being polite. _Someone taught this boy right once. Too bad he forgot somewhere along the way._ She stepped inside the cell, still keeping a safe distance, and cleared her throat before addressing him.

"Prisoner Echo-2659."

"Yes, ma'am." His voice was soft and held almost no trace of emotion. She took a moment to study him again. He was about her height, maybe an inch shorter, but she figured she had at least a good thirty pounds on him. He was pale, but otherwise appeared fairly healthy, and his prison jumpsuit was neither tight nor loose. His bright green eyes appeared to be clear, and she could not detect any outward sign of illness. Finished with her visual exam, she continued.

"I am Nurse Freeman, and yes, I am well aware of the irony of my name." She waited for the usual appreciation of humor, or confusion, but saw neither and made another mental note to keep an eye on her newest charge. "I will be monitoring your health during your stay at this facility. If you cooperate, we'll get along just fine. If not, let's just say that I'm not a fan of difficult patients. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied in that same emotionless voice.

"Good. I need to take your vitals. Are you going to give me any trouble?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Sit."

He obediently lowered himself onto his cot and held out his arm, obviously familiar with the procedure. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm and, still watching carefully, proceeded to take the reading. "One-fifteen over seventy. Not bad." She checked his pulse, and then his temperature using an aural thermometer. "Ninety-seven-point nine. A little low, but still in the normal range. Any pain?" He shook his head, but she noticed the wince he made at the movement. "I'll see about getting you an analgesic."

She tilted his head up so she could get a better look at his eyes, and carefully checked his neck for any sign of swelling. Satisfied that he was healthy, she released him.

"Looks like you're fine. I'll be back tomorrow for another check."

"Thank you," he whispered, and she felt a brief twinge something she rarely experienced when dealing with prisoners: pity. She shook her head slightly and turned to leave. Pity was something she couldn't afford.

"Goodbye, Echo-2659."

She turned to leave and caught a brief glimpse of anguish that flashed across the man's face. As the door shut behind her, leaving her prisoner to his obvious misery, she frowned in puzzlement at the sudden feeling that arose, the strange tingling of belief that this man didn't belong in prison.

TBC…


End file.
